


Keep Calm (And Han Shot First)

by Nikki373



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: (I'm too lazy to write the hard part - sorrynotsorry), Bickering, Cisco is still a genius, Come on - you know they'd be this cute, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Hartley is still an ass, Hartmon, Hartmon Headcanon, M/M, Romance?, Suits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 08:49:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3603900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikki373/pseuds/Nikki373
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well, I suppose I should thank fuck you didn't come out in that 'Keep Calm and Han Shot First' monstrosity," Hartley acknowledged in a slow, disdainful drawl, still continuing a series of lingering, critical once-overs.  </p>
<p>"Don't go dissing that shirt," the engineer interrupted, narrowed gaze involuntarily jumping from paper-littered desk to captivating blue eyes.</p>
<p>"Wouldn't dream of it," Hartley mocked, lips quirking into a sharp, playful smirk.  "You only wore the damn thing to every milestone we've ever had together."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Calm (And Han Shot First)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer - I own nothing. I do not own or profit from anything associated with The Flash, DC Comics, Arrow, or other affiliated shows/texts/products. I claim no ownership of any trademarked characters used in this fictional story spawned by my overactive imagination.
> 
> PS. Also, I'm not sure where I'm supposed to put this, so I'm putting it here: _**if you have them, feed me prompts**_. XD I'm thinking there should be a series of times when the 'Keep Calm and Han Shot First' shirt held a central role in their relationship. But, I'm a little slow in coming up with ideas, so if you have some, shoot them my way. Or write them up yourself (Join me~  <3)!
> 
> PSS. Un-betaed - all mistakes and bizarre typos are mine. Please accept these virtual cookies as an apology. *gives cookies*

Emerging reluctantly from the depths of their mutual closet, Cisco ran a calloused, nervous hand through his unruly hair, awkwardly shuffling as he awaited scathing judgement.  Dark eyes studiously occupied themselves with a detailed inventory of the patent-filing project on the desk in the corner; however, the unsatisfactory distraction did not make the silence any less deafening.  All he wanted to do was duck back into the anonymity of closeted darkness.  He was miles out of his depth, and as the guest of honor, he was totally entitled to feigning convenient illness and calling in sick.  In fact, that plan was looking better and better with each dragging second.

He just wasn't cut out for this kind of high-flying gala - not with the silk tie, the gold cufflinks, the three-piece suit, and the thousand-dollar Italian leather shoes.  The obscene expense of formality was singularly stifling, and the tailored cling of exorbitant fabric left him feeling claustrophobically trapped in his own skin.  Typically, he was the one wearing ratty sneakers and a 'Never Trust an Atom; They Make Up Everything' t-shirt, bringing the baked goods that Hartley would never take credit for.  He was not the one in a flawlessly fitted, ink-black suit that cost double his monthly paycheck, and standing under the critical gaze of his genius lover was an exercise in discomfort.  Any gathering to which he couldn't wear a 'I'm not saying I'm Batman; I'm just saying that no one's ever seen Batman and I in the same room' shirt wasn't the kind of party he cared to attend.

And yet, here he was, sweating under too many layers of ostentatious material.

"Well, I suppose I should thank fuck you didn't come out in that 'Keep Calm and Han Shot First' monstrosity," Hartley acknowledged in a slow, disdainful drawl, still continuing a series of lingering, critical once-overs.  

"Don't go dissing that shirt," the engineer interrupted, narrowed gaze involuntarily jumping from paper-littered desk to captivating blue eyes.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Hartley mocked, lips quirking into a sharp, playful smirk.  "You only wore the damn thing to every milestone we've ever had together."

"I had to break you in someho-"

"Shut-up.  I'm thinking here," Hartley icily cut him off, blue eyes flashing with wicked amusement.  Cisco liked that look.  Mostly, he liked that expression in bed, but he certainly had no qualms seeing it on his boyfriend's face when the man was mostly naked and dripping wet.  "The tie.  That garish yellow is an atrocity.  Burn it."

"But it's the Hufflepuff House colo-"

"I don't give a damn."  The interruption was anything but unexpected, and Cisco flipped him off.  "If you can't resist the compulsion to parade your geekery in front of the finest minds in your field, then wear those superman boxers you're so inexplicably fond of.  Anything else ruins the already questionable taste of your severely limited fashion sense," Hartley asserted, mildly over-aggressive tone broaching no argument.

Bristling as his shoulders hunched, Cisco struggled to breathe through the sudden rush of defensive irritation, well-aware that his reaction hinged more on a lack of self-confidence than a surplus of tactless honesty.  "You were the one that insisted I get this thing," he muttered, unable to maintain the caustically affectionate balance of their relationship in the face of his own insecurities.

"Every prominent leader in their field should have at least one Zegna in their wardrobe.  I have at least three," his partner drawled…still casually leaning against the bathroom doorjamb in nothing but a loose, low-slung towel, water dripping in distracting rivulets down the planes of his pale, bare skin.

"Yeah, well - no one has ever accused you of being humble."  

"I've never had reason to be," Hartley shot back, waving a hand dismissively.  "Now turn."

"Seriously - you cannot actu-"

"Turn."

Crossing his arms over his chest in the classic stance of the reluctantly obedient, Cisco did as he was directed, fully aware that this was his partner's arena.  "I will expose your secret penchant for baking at 3am when you need a scientific breakthrough," he threatened petulantly under his breath, ignoring the huff of laughter that earned him.

When he finished a full circuit and looked about ready to make a break for the closet, Hartley pushed away from the doorjamb in a deliberately exaggerated roll of hips and torso, showcasing the naked expanse of his taunt, unmarred skin for a handful of protracted, delicious seconds.  The distraction was just long enough for him to pad across the room, wrap long fingers around that hideous tie, and yank it loose.  He all but ripped the travesty free, and there was a sadistic ghost of a smile flirting with Hartley's lips as Cisco's breath caught in his throat.  Releasing his physical - if not his hypnotically sexual - hold on his lover, Hartley stepped into the closet to retrieve a substitute, throwing a silk, cobalt blue tie around Cisco's neck.  For barely a second, he kept a taunt grip on that vibrant, gorgeous fabric, as if he was going to use it to pull the engineer down into a kiss that was just as filthy as the look he was delivering from under thick lashes.  

Ultimately, however, he let the guy go, eyeing him once more with that professionally icy, critical stare.  "I suppose that'll have to do."

"Your vote of confidence is inspiring," Cisco snarked, feeling just a little less uncomfortable in his $23,000.000 suit.  Though, he was still trying to get past the sheer number of comic books he could have bought with that money.  Or the countless other needs, charities, or good causes that could have used those finances.  If he was being honest, he'd have to admit that he was still more than a little irked on that account.  There were definitely better uses for the money, but Hartley had been singularly convincing one evening.  And early morning.  And late morning.  And noon.  

"What, were you expecting me to wax poetic about a sudden desire to ride you into the mattress?" the man shot right back, eyes glinting with this mischievous, almost-dangerous sense of amusement that never failed to arouse.

Suddenly Cisco wasn't griping about the comics any more.  "I wouldn't have objected."

"Oh?"  With a distinctly devilish smirk playing across his thin lips, Hartley reached out, hands running suggestively up the fitted lines of lush material.  "I would have thought those pants would be too restrictive for the way you enjoy my word games."  Fingers tangling in soft, wayward hair, he stroked the dark strands away from the guy's face, roughly finger-combing the tangled mane into submission as Cisco's breath audibly hitched with each pleasant-painful tug.  Eventually, coy fingers tightened on a fistful, and he dragged the engineer into a hot, hard kiss, licking into his mouth and crowding into his space.  

Breaking away rather abruptly, Hartley breathed a few harsh pants against his partner's mouth, lips brushing ever so temptingly with each word he spoke, "You're receiving the Turing Award tonight, and a stupid suit is supposed to get me hotter than that?  Don't be an idiot."  In a second, the bastard withdrew both hands and turned on his heel.  "When we get home," he added, without so much as a glance over his shoulder, "I intend to have my way with that suit."

A beat of silence.

"Just the suit?"

The scoff was audible, even as his boyfriend was retreating.  "With whatever I want."

"I'll wear my 'Keep Cal-"

"Keep dreaming," Hartley interrupted, tone icy and lips curled into a challengingly coy smile as he threw a look back over his shoulder.  

"Lose the towel and I will be," Cisco shot right back, openly admiring the curve of the other man's ass as he walked away. 

Fingers sliding along the edge of the towel, Hartley let the material slid off his hips to the floor two steps before disappearing into the bathroom. The impulsive temptation to follow was curbed only by the miserable prospect of having to get back into this damn suit afterwards (and the possibility of Hartley destroying the thing in bed tonight, if he didn't irrationally irk the guy by making them late).  Turning away from the bathroom, Cisco indulged in a self-satisfied little smirk.  He couldn't wait for Hartley to tear off the suit only to come face-to-face with his least favorite - and perhaps secretly beloved - t-shirt.


End file.
